


Hold my hand

by WholesomeYuriDoujin



Category: Princess Principal, Princess Principal (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, Romantic Fluff, Wholesome, Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25715323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WholesomeYuriDoujin/pseuds/WholesomeYuriDoujin
Summary: Beatrice tries her hardest to come to terms with the fact that Princess will never see her in a romantic light. Dorothy is asked to claim her father's body. Will their paths intersect?
Relationships: Ange le Carré/Princess | Charlotte, Beato/Dorothy, Beatrice/Dorothy, Beatrice/Dorothy MacBean, Dorothy/Beato, Dorothy/Beatrice
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first work, so I hope it's received well. I recently watched this anime, and enjoyed it immensely. I can't believe it flew under my radar for so long!

Beatrice's eyes fluttered open, squinting in the early morning light. A chilly draft washed over her, and she shivered, and reached out, fingers searching blindly for the her blanket, but finding nothing but rough carpet. She blinked, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She was sitting by the large window of the club room, cold air seeping in through the open window. Confused, she sat up, and reached over to close the window, eyebrows knitted into a frown. Had she fallen asleep in a meeting? But Princess would've woken her up, wouldn't she?  
A loud groan sounded from behind her, startling her into a shrill squeal.  
'Ugh.. not so loud..' A tired voice groaned, and Beatrice scrambled to her feet, shooting an annoyed look in the offender's direction. Dorothy gave her an apologetic smile, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'Morning.'  
Dorothy had been sprawled out on the rug, a large bottle of whiskey lying on the ground beside her, almost empty. Beatrice frowned, walking over to pick up the bottle, annoyed.  
'Did you drink all this by yourself?' She asked.  
'Mmm, probably.' Came a groggy reply.  
Beatrice sighed, and looked around the room. It appeared as though they weren't the only two who had fallen asleep here- Ange and Princess were fast asleep on the sofa. A pang of jealousy washed over her, upon seeing Ange's head resting on her Highness' chest. A small wine glass was dangling precariously in Ange's grip, the amber liquid dribbling down the side of the glass.  
Apparently, Dorothy had shared her booze around last night.  
With a sigh, she set the bottle down on the desk, and made to take the wine glass from Ange's loose grasp.  
'There's a stain on the carpet.' 

Beatrice squealed, and almost jumped out of her skin, dropping the glass, and spilling the booze all over the floor. Chise looked up at her, from where she sat, carefully writing a letter to her sister. She lifted her paintbrush, unimpressed.  
'You made the stain bigger.' She said, flatly.

'Don't be so loud..' Dorothy groaned.  
Beatrice went scarlet.  
'O- only because you startled me! How long have you been there?' She demanded.  
The black haired girl shrugged.  
'I have been here since yesterday. And, I must say, Dorothy can be loud. I was trying to write.'

Beatrice nodded, going to grab a cloth to soak up the booze, as it slowly seeped into the carpet.  
Dorothy frowned at her.  
'Oi! Aren't you going to defend me? I am not loud.'  
The younger girl shrugged.  
'Well.. you must admit, you get pretty rowdy when you're drunk- n.. not that it's a bad thing, per say..' She trailed off.

A low moan from across the room interrupted the awkward silence, as Ange came to her senses.  
'Ugh.. feels like my head was used as a human basketball..'  
'Welcome to the club.' Dorothy replied, grimly.

Ange massaged her forehead, looking a bit green.  
'What on god's green earth did you give me last night?' she asked, accusingly.

Dorothy shrugged. 'I dunno.. hey, Beato, be a sweetheart and read the label?' She grumbled.  
Beatrice sighed, rolled her eyes, and squinted at the name plastered to the green glass.  
'Uhh.. something something.. London's finest gin.' She responded.

'Ah.' The older girl rubbed her forehead. 'That explains the hell of a hangover.'

'Oh, is that what this is?'  
A familiar voice asked. Princess had woken up without anyone noticing, and was massaging her temples.  
'I thought I may be dying.'

'Your Highness!' Beatrice cried, looking horrified. 'You didn't.. it would be ever so unladylike-'

'I only had a little.' Princess smiled, sheepishly.

Dorothy mimed raising a glass. 'Congratulations, your Highness.'  
Princess looked just a tiny bit proud.

Ange got to her feet, looking a little ill. 'Ugh.. anyone have any aspirin?' She asked, knees shaking. Dorothy smirked.  
'Damn- you really can't handle your alcohol, hm?'  
'Shut it.'

Princess looked concerned.  
'I think you need the nurse, Ange, you look quite green.'  
Ange shook her head, grimacing almost immediately after the simple gesture.  
'No- ah, bad idea- no, Princess, I'm fine..'  
The blonde girl stood up, and hurried to keep her friend standing.  
'Are you sure? I could take you- you look terribly ill..'

Ange paused, then;  
'Yeah, I think I do need to see the nurse.' She said, quietly.

'I'll come too!' Beatrice piped up, already scrambling to her feet.  
'No, Beato, it's quite alright.'

Princess grimaced as she shook her head.  
'Umm, Dorothy, how long do these things last?' She asked, nervously.

Dorothy shrugged. 'I dunno, few hours?'  
The princess shuddered, before guiding Ange out of the room, letting the door swing shut behind them.


	2. Evading Beatrice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ange and Princess struggle to get a minute to themselves.

Beatrice got to her feet, planning on following the two girls as they left. She didn't want Ange alone with Princess, especially not in the state they were in.  
It was almost a cliche, as if from a romance novel- the kind she would read under the covers, in case her dormmates saw, and mocked her for reading such things.  
It was almost exactly like the climax of her latest book- an old, dusty one she'd come across at the very back of the library, called 'Dancing among the roses.'  
In the book, a sickly soldier was being cared for by the princess of a small, European kingdom. The atmosphere had gotten all tense and romantic, and the two lovers had looked deeply into eachother's eyes..  
Beatrice shook her head furiously. It wasn't going to happen-because she would catch them up, and do everything in her power to stop the scene from playing.  
She started towards the door, but was stopped in her tracks almost immediately by a hand, gripping her by the wrist. She turned around, annoyed.  
'What?'

Dorothy shook her head , wincing slightly. 'Beato, you really don't have to follow them-Ange won't hurt princess.' She told her, sounding vaguely amused.  
Beatrice frowned. 'I- I know that! I just.. wanted to make sure..?'  
It was a feeble attempt at an excuse, and she knew it.  
The older girl sighed in annoyance. 'C'mon Beato, give them a minute to themselves.'

Beatrice's frown deepened. 'They hardly know eachother! Why would they need a minute to themselves?'  
Dorothy shrugged. 'I don't know, maybe that's why? They want to get to know eachother.. or something?'  
She pinched the bridge of her nose, as her headache worsened. 'Ohhh crap..' She groaned. 'Oi, Chise, mind grabbing me some aspirin? My head feels ready to implode.'

Chise looked up from where she had been writing, her long dark hair falling over her face like a waterfall.   
'Why doesn't Beato chan go? That way, she will be able to check up on the Princess.' She said, quietly.  
Dorothy rolled her eyes, ready to object, but Beatrice had already wrenched her arm away, and darted out of the door.

She turned to frown at Chise, picking up the bottle Beatrice had left on the table, and inspecting it, as if pondering whether another gulp was worth it.  
'That wasn't smart.' She told her, simply.

Chise put down her paintbrush with a sigh.  
'Beato chan needs to see reality for herself.' She responded, rolling up her letter.

'Can't argue with that.' Dorothy shrugged, before downing the last of the gin.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Beatrice scuttled down the hallway, drawing a few confused looks from passing students- the last few stragglers from the flood of teenagers that had swept through the halls just a few minutes earlier.  
She skidded to a halt outside the Nurse's office, and made to twist the doorknob. Soft voices from inside stopped her in her tracks, and she froze.  
'Charlotte, I don't want to keep hiding our relationship. It gets awfully tiring- you don't suppose we could tell the others?'  
The Princess' voice permeated the smooth oak of the door. Beatrice stood stock still, confused. Was her Highness talking to herself? And if not-  
Ange's low voice interrupted her thoughts, and she pressed her ear against the door, eyebrows knitted into a worried frown.  
'No. You know we can't. It just isn't worth the risk, Princess.'  
Beatrice barely had time to think about what she'd heard, when the door swung open, and Princess practically walked into her, mid-sentence.  
'Charlotte, we can't just preten- UWAAH!'  
She stumbled over, catching herself on the doorframe. Ange appeared behind her, looking concerned. Her worried expression quickly morphed into one of annoyance, upon seeing Beatrice standing sheepishly in front of the door. She sighed. 'What is it?'

Beatrice snapped back into reality. 'I- I was just coming to get some aspirin for Miss Dorothy!' She spluttered, going pink. Ange stepped to the side, helping Princess regain her balance.   
'Go on then' She said, nodding towards the door. Beatrice nodded feverishly, and bolted into the room, crying out a hurried apology to Princess.  
Ange pulled the door shut behind her.

She stood in the Nurse's office for a moment, breathing heavily, face flushed an ugly maroon colour, before she sank backwards against the door knees shaking slightly.

'Oh.'


	3. Dear Ms.Macbean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothy receives a letter from the London Morgue.

Dorothy returned to her dormitory, in quite a mood. School had not been fun, especially with one of the worst hangovers she'd had this month. So, when she swung open the door to find all the other girls huddled around her bed, it did nothing to improve her mood.  
The girls were conversing in a low, conspiratorial tone, glancing around the room periodically, and passing something around from girl to girl.  
She cleared her throat loudly. A few of them almost jumped out of their skin, and the rest stepped backwards, throwing her guilty looks. A small, slight brunette was left clutching something tightly in her hand. All the eyes in the room fell on her, and she swallowed nervously. Dorothy looked at her, expectantly.  
The girl sheepishly held out the item to her, a grubby piece of parchment, covered in small, shaky handwriting.  
Dorothy snatched it, irritated, and opened her mouth to say something about respecting other people's privacy, when she noticed the address.  
London Morgue.  
She faltered slightly, mind racing, and flipped open the letter, heart in her throat as she scanned the top line of the note. What did the morgue want with her? Was it a follow up to her's and Beatrice's resignation? Had Beato gotten one too?

'W- we didn't read it!' The brunette squeaked, wide eyed. 'We just.. looked..'  
Dorothy opened her mouth, then closed it again. Whatever this was, she didn't want to read it in front of her dormmates.  
'It's okay, I just.. I should probably..' She paused. Then, she turned on her heel, and stalked out of the room.  
The second the door swung shut behind her, she broke into a run, making for the clubroom.

Nobody would be there at this time- there was no meeting scheduled, plus, the younger ones would be in bed, and Ange hardly went into the clubroom if she could avoid it. Perhaps the sense of comradery bothered her?  
She flung open the door, breathing heavily, before slumping down onto the sofa, and flipping open the, now very crumpled, parchment, feverishly scanning the letter.  
Most of it was general information, verifying who they were, who she was, that she used to work for them..  
'...We must ask you to come and claim the body of Mister Daniel Macbean...'

She froze, and slowly re-read the sentence.  
Then again  
And again.

She gripped the letter so tightly that the edges tore, nose inches from the rough parchment, eyes wild.  
'..cause of death, multiple shots..'  
Dorothy felt dizzy, and found herself subconsciously reaching for a bottle, abandoned on the coffee table at lunch.

\------------------------------------------------

Beatrice padded down the halls in her pyjamas, jumping at every creak in the floorboards, and silently cursing herself for forgetting her notes in the clubroom. They had a test tomorrow, and she'd wanted to quiz herself before bedtime. She shivered, glancing around nervously. She'd always had a crippling fear of the dark, ever since her mother had died. Her father hadn't been much help- she still had nightmares of him chasing her around their big, stately home, only to end up tethered to that table again.  
Beatrice shuddered at the memory, and tried to shove it to the back of her mind.

The sound of breaking glass shattered the silence, drawing a little squeak of fear from the small girl, who froze in place, wide eyed and frightened.  
She stood there for a moment, shaking, and wondering if she'd just imagined the noise, before a familiar voice muttered;  
'Shit.'

She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing slightly. It was just Dorothy. Maybe she'd decided to have a little drink before bed- it wouldn't be the first time. Perhaps, if she wasn't too drunk, Beatrice would ask her to walk her back to her room- she didn't fancy traversing the dark corridors alone again. 

Beatrice pushed open the door to the clubroom, and opened her mouth to greet the young women. She faltered at the sight in front of her.

The bottle from lunchtime lay, discarded and empty on the table, another, was abandoned on the rug, the last few drops slowly dribbling onto the carpet. Several shot glasses littered the room. One, which she assumed was the cause of the noise, lay broken on the floorboards.  
Dorothy was clumsily trying to clean up the pieces of broken glass, clearly tanked.

Beatrice watched as the older girl tried to gather a handful of glass shards together, before groaning in pain as her hand was sliced up. She inspected her hand, before shrugging, and going to grab another handful.  
'Dorothy?' Beatrice asked, quietly.  
The young women turned to look at her, beads of sweat sliding down her pale face.  
'Beato-'


	4. Talking about it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two girls lament over their losses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi- it's been some time, hasn't it? A lot of things came up in my personal life, and I had to put everything on hold for a bit. Sorry if this was annoying-but I'm back now, and I'll try and make up for the time I lost.  
> -Connie (WholesomeYuriDoujin)

It had been a long night.  
That was the thought that floated through Beatrice's head, as she stared blankly at the ceiling. Her body felt heavy, exhausted, as if she was sinking into the mattress. She sighed, reaching her hand upwards, watching as it's shadow joined the others, dancing across the ceiling in the candlelight.   
A soft sigh from beside her caused her to roll over, the long brown hair of the girl next to her, lying sprawled out on the mattress, tickled her face.   
She'd never noticed how long the older girl's eyelashes were, or how pretty her smile could be.  
But, she supposed, there were a lot of things about Dorothy Macbean that she hadn't noticed, not until last night.

....................................................................  
Beatrice watched as the older girl tried to gather a handful of glass shards together, before groaning in pain as her hand was sliced up. She inspected her hand, before shrugging, and going to grab another handful.  
'Dorothy?' Beatrice asked, quietly.  
The young women turned to look at her, beads of sweat sliding down her pale face.  
'Beato-'

She faltered, desperately searching for a reason as to why she would be sitting on the floor of the clubroom, bottles scattered around her, bleeding from her hands, covered in glass shards, and completely wasted.

No such excuse came to her fuzzy mind.  
'I-'

Dorothy hung her head in shame, feeling a flush creeping up her neck. She stood up, legs shaking, before almost immediately stumbling over, and grabbing the table for support, subsequently knocking another bottle over, where it joined the first on the floor with a loud smash. She stared down, dumbly, as the amber liquid soaked her bare feet.

Beatrice took a tentative step towards her, nervously skirting around the broken glass that littered the floor. Dorothy winced, as the stinging sensation in her palms grew worse, and the younger girl stared.  
Beatrice looked concerned, panicky, even, her eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. A fresh wave of guilt crashed over her- Beatrice was only fifteen, and here she was, putting her in such a position. 

Two cool, shaky hands wrapped around her own, jolting her out of her thoughts. The younger girl examined her wounds, eyebrows knitted into a small frown.  
'Miss Dorothy.. what happened?'  
That was the question she'd been dreading.

She jerked her hand away.  
'Nothing.'

Beatrice scowled.  
'You only drink like this when something bad happened! Don't lie, I thought we were friends!'  
She looked so genuinely hurt in that moment, that Dorothy almost told her.  
Almost.

'It's nothing Beato.' She said, hitching a sloppy, drunk grin onto her face. 'I.. just got carried away. That's all.'  
She looked less than convinced.

Dorothy sighed. Sometimes, having friends was hard work.  
'So.. why're you up at..' She glanced at the clock. '...Two am?'

'I forgot my notes.' The younger said, defensively.

She sighed again, and found herself reaching for another shot glass. Upon finding it empty, she groaned in frustration, and went to get a fresh bottle from the cabinet.  
Beatrice looked, well, pissed.  
'I'm sure you don't need any more of that.' She said, irritably.  
Dorothy laughed. 'Look, we clearly both have some stuff we're not willing to talk about..'  
She mused, setting the alcohol down on the table.  
Beatrice glared at it as if it where a snake. 'So?'

Dorothy didn't answer right away. Instead, she poured out two shot glasses, holding one out to Beato.  
'So..' She said, smiling. 'Why don't we let the whiskey do the talking for us?'

Beatrice hesitated. She eyed the glass, nervously, before taking a sniff. She retched, disgusted.  
The older girl smiled, amused. 'It's good, I swear.'

She shook her head violently. 'No. I'm good.'  
Dorothy shrugged, sliding the glass back towards herself. 'Suit yourself.'

Three empty glasses later, and Dorothy was suddenly very willing to talk about anything and everything, including why she was so drunk.  
Beatrice listened quietly, nodding her head at her friend's statements, and eyeing the new glass Dorothy was insisting she drink.  
'Ya know, even if dad was a.. a piece of donkey shit..' she paused to giggle drunkenly. 'He didn't deserve to die like that- I mean,'  
She waved her hands in the air for emphasis, sloshing the booze everywhere. 'I mean.. it's not like..'  
Dorothy paused, confused, losing her train of thought.   
'It's not like I hated him.'

She slowly lowered her glass, demeanour changing so fast Beatrice could hardly keep up.  
'We could've sorted all that shit out.. yeah? Gotten over it.. made up..'

The younger girl took her chance, and snatched the shot glass out of Dorothy's loose grip.  
She barely noticed.

After a moment of staring off into space, she looked down, seemingly bewildered by the sight of her own empty hand.  
'Hey.. Beato-' She glanced up. 'Gimme it back.'

Instead, she picked up the bottle, and poured the remainder down the sink.  
'Hey!' Dorothy yelled, furiously, 'That's London's finest whiskey!' She cried, slurring her words beyond belief. The younger girl scowled.  
'I don't care what it is, you've had enough!' She told her, stoutly.

The elder scowled back.

Beatrice sighed heavily.  
They stayed like that, for a time, staring eachother down, silently daring the other to try their luck.  
Eventually, Dorothy just groaned.  
'Fine, you win- I just.. I gotta sleep- but this isn't over!' She finished, defiantly.

It was only when they were halfway down the hallway, Beatrice supporting the older girl, as she stumbled down the corridor, that she realised she's forgotten her notes.  
Somehow, they didn't seem so important anymore.


End file.
